


Desiderium

by pugnacious



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Dragons, Gen, Lots of dragons - Freeform, rating will go up to teen later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-12
Updated: 2017-06-04
Packaged: 2018-09-08 01:30:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8824798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pugnacious/pseuds/pugnacious
Summary: DesideriumNoun[des-i-deer-ee-uh m]1. an ardent longing, as for something lost.

Genji had two dragons, once.





	1. Chapter 1

The first time Genji saw a dragon was when he was four years old. 

He was walking down one of the many hallways of his massive home in Hanamura – he can never remember why. But he can recall the paper lanterns which lit the walls with a soft, warm glow. And he can remember the sudden, thunderous sound of the paper and wooden walls shuddering around him. 

There was no time to think about what was happening before something came barreling down the hall in front of him: a lengthy blur of bright orange color that rippled like a fire. For a split-second, he truly believed he was about to be consumed by a blazing inferno. Out of panic, he ducked. 

He managed only a quick glimpse of the thing – sharp teeth and angry, yellow eyes – as it sailed over his head. Following it was a gust of air that hit Genji with the force to knock him off his feet. 

The creature flew down the hall with the speed of a bullet train, jostling the paper lanterns and nearly ripping them out of the ceiling. 

Genji scrambled to his feet and chased it without hesitation. 

He was much too slow to catch up, but it was easy to track. He need only to follow the path of the disturbed lanterns, which continued to sway long after the thing had passed. 

It wasn’t long before he reached the end of a trail: a closed door leading into a room. He could hear the muffled sound of his father’s voice drifted through the paper panels. 

He slid open the door. Standing in the middle of the room was his father, with his back towards Genji. And the creature –

It was a dragon, undeniably, like the ones in the stories his father told him. It glided in lazy circles around the room, filling up the empty space with its sheer size. Its fur was silky white, and its scales were orange in color, opaline and rippling under the light like a crisp flame. 

The dragon was talking to his father with a deep, rumbling voice that made Genji think of roaring lions. He always remembered the way it sounded, but never what it said. 

For a moment, Genji could only gawk at it. 

Then he noticed the tip of its furred tail beginning to dissolve into thin air, traveling up the length of its body. As if it was being swallowed up by nothing, from head to tail. 

Then it was gone. 

He slid the door closed and ran. 

Later, when his family visited the nearby Shinto shrines, he wrote his prayers on a wooden plaque and prayed to the gods for the day he would have his own dragons. 

* * *

“Genji, get down from there.” 

Hanzo scrutinized the thick foliage of the tree ahead of him. There was no response. He listened for sounds, but could only hear the chirps of birds and the soft hum of flying cars beyond the white walls of his old home. The sky was lit with pinks and oranges from the sun that had yet to clear the city skyline, but the land was dark, lit only by the glowing lanterns lining the paths. 

A breeze ruffled the tree, and Hanzo spotted an inky shadow shuffling through the leaves. 

“Father needs to speak to you,” Hanzo said, watching the shadow as it skulked through the branches. “It’s important.” 

The birds went silent. He waited. 

There was a loud CRACK and the angry chatter of startled birds. Genji plummeted to the ground with a crash, along with the tree branch he had pounced on. 

Hanzo rolled his eyes. Genji sat up, grumbling to himself and brushing out the leaves scattered through his dark, tousled hair. His t-shirt was splattered with bright orange egg yolk, and clutched in his hand was a single dark-grey bird feather, which he promptly held up for his brother to see. 

“Got one,” Genji beamed. 

Hanzo scoffed. “You pride yourself in destroying bird nests?” 

The smile faltered. Before Genji could retort, he was being hoisted by his shirt sleeve onto his feet. 

“Go clean up and make yourself presentable immediately. Father needs to speak with you,” Hanzo repeated as he shoved his brother towards the house. 

Genji staggered, but managed to regain regained his balance while Hanzo walked past without a word. 

He shoved the feather in his pants pocket, then ran his hands down the front of his shirt, trying to wipe off the yolk. He realized it was a stupid idea only after he made the mess worse and his hands sticky, and as he squished the yolk between his fingers, a sinister idea flickered through his mind. He started running. 

“Hey Hanzo!” Genji yelled, and when Hanzo turned to look, he smeared the yolk down the front of his brother’s kimono. 

Hanzo howled like someone just shot him in the gut. Genji cackled as he dodged his brother’s attempts to hit him and bolted for home. Hanzo followed right on his heels, cursing at him in Japanese. 

“Dad will have a fit if he hears you talking like that!” Genji yelled behind him, still laughing. 

He bounded up the stairs to the main entrance, but in his haste to quickly remove his sandals, he tipped forward and hit the ground. 

He hopped back onto his feet in a second, but hadn't taken a step before Hanzo grabbed him by the back of the shirt and hauled the younger one over his head. Even at the age of ten, he had no trouble lifting his seven-year-old brother. 

Genji floundered and laughed as he was carried towards his own room, where Hanzo dropped him gracelessly to the floor – on his back, so as not to ruin the mats. 

“Hurry and change into something presentable. I’ll meet you by the stairs,” said Hanzo before leaving to return to his own room. 

Genji wasted no time. He threw away his shirt (money might as well grow on trees for all he cared), put on a summer kimono, and rushed to wait for his brother. 

Eventually, Hanzo showed up with Kawa and Umi – his two three-year-old dragons, as blue as arctic ice and just as chilly – sitting on his shoulders. Together, they walked in silence as their made their way downstairs to the sitting room. 

"Do you know what dad wants to talk about?" Genji asked. 

"He didn't tell me," Hanzo said. "But I think I know what it is." 

"What?" 

Hanzo smiled. It was not a rare sight when they were young. 

"You'll have to see for yourself." 

It wasn't like him to be cryptic. 

Genji's stomach clenched and his mind flashed through all the things he might've done wrong the past few days. He wasn't sure whether to be excited or nervous; knowing his brother, he could be in trouble, and this was Hanzo’s way of getting revenge for some of the countless antics he’s pulled. 

He didn’t bother to ask again, certain he wouldn’t get an answer anyways. 

In the sitting room they found their father – Shimada Sojiro – talking to several of the many guards that patrolled their home, whom he dismissed upon their entrance. 

He was dressed in a navy blue kimono and haori, which was embroidered with ornate, bright orange dragons. The kind of kimono that was only worn on special occasions. 

The two brothers respectfully bowed in greeting, and their father nodded in return. 

The built-up anxiety finally burst, and Genji couldn’t stop himself from blurting out, “Am I in trouble?” 

His father let out a laugh, then smiled. “No, you’re not in trouble. Quite the opposite,” he said, to which Genji let out a sigh of relief, while Hanzo rolled his eyes. 

His father kneeled so that he was eye-level with Genji, then spoke, “Today is a big day for you, Genji. I have something for you, and I know you’ve been waiting for this a long time.” 

The worry that Genji had felt quickly dissolved and was replaced with excitement. He had a feeling he knew what it was too. 

Sojiro stood. “Follow me.” 

He led them downstairs to the cellar, the only place in the entire house Sojiro had forbidden them to enter without his permission. 

While the Shimada clan was very minimalist and kept their home furnishings very light, the cellar was brimming with riches. Hand-painted scrolls dating as far back as the 12th century hung from the walls. Hard-light technology never released to the public and powerful weapons sat locked behind display cases. Massive statues of creatures, both real and imagined, watched the rooms with their piercing eyes. All treasures plundered from their rivals, with some family heirlooms mixed. Genji thought it was like a museum: a showcase of their victories and their history. 

On one of the walls, stretching from the floor to the ceiling, was a massive painting of two orange dragons twisted together in an airborne dance. The guard standing nearby bowed deeply to the three before moving to the edge of the painting – which turned out to be a panel embedded into the wall, evident when the guard moved it aside to reveal a plain metal door hidden behind it. Genji was largely unsurprised by this new discovery, as he was well aware of the several exits out of house concealed around the cellar, in case of emergencies. 

Sojiro produced a key from his sleeve, which he used to open the door to reveal a narrow, spiral staircase, lit by lanterns lining the ceiling which immediately flickered to life. 

They descended the steps, leading into a corridor that ended with another metal door. Jutting from it were two golden, metal dragons, twisting and coiled like snakes ready to strike. 

This door was also locked, not just with a key, but also with a pin number, passcode, and fingerprint scanner, all of which their father unlocked, one by one. 

The door opened with a gust of hot, humid air, which was stuffy in Genji’s lungs and made him feel like he was going to suffocate. 

The room ahead was small and circular in shape. At first glance, it looked like the forge of a blacksmith. The floors were made of stone, dark grey from the ash that stained it, and it was very sparse, with a few tools and containers sitting against the walls. A small wood-burning sauna stove perched nearby, the source of the awful humidity. 

In the middle of the room, low to the ground, sat a hearth made of stone and metal and filled with burning coals – a repurposed furnace for crafting bladed weapons. Attached to it was a box bellow, and in the ceiling above was a chimney, which had winding pipes leading to the wood-fire stoves in the kitchen, as Genji would later learn. 

It would have been an unremarkable sight, were it not for the thing sitting in the middle of the hearth, atop the pile of charcoal: an egg, bright green and glowing. The rough surface bloomed with alternating dark and light bands, like polished malachite. 

Practically frothing with excitement, Genji dashed up to it for a closer look. He would have loved to be able to pick up and feel the texture if the eggshell beneath his fingertips, but the searing heat of the coals meant all he could do was admire it from a distance. 

Sojiro crouched beside him and Genji tore his gaze away to look at him. He was smiling, and out of habit, Genji smiled back. 

"Dragons have been a part of the Shimada clan since the beginning of written history, they say," his father began. "Everyone born into our family is given their own hatchlings to raise, and we grow up with a deep connection to them because of it. It's been a tradition of ours that has survived for hundreds of generations. Today, I'm passing on this legacy to you.” 

Genji’s mind slipped to all the stories his father had told him. He knew dragons were real since the day he first saw one, but it hadn’t occurred to him that those tales may have been more than simple fantasy. 

Sojiro placed a hand on Genji’s shoulder, bringing him out of his thoughts. The smile was gone, replaced by an expression that meant he wasn’t kidding around. 

“This egg, and the dragons inside, are now yours, Genji. It will be your duty to care for them, and raise them to be the guardians of our family,” he said. 

“This is a great responsibility I’m giving you. Can I trust you with this?” 

Genji thought it was a stupid question. He wanted nothing more in the world than to make his father proud. 

“Yes, absolutely!” he exclaimed. “I’m going to have the best dragons in the whole clan.” 

* * *

Caring for the egg was simple, but duller than Genji would have ever imagined. He would have rather plucked and counted all the individual feathers on a dead chicken. 

It wasn't much different from taking care of the birds of prey eggs that their family raised for falconry (he liked the birds, but didn't care much for the sport). But unlike the high-tech incubators and professional handlers they used, he was given only the most basic, rudimentary tools as part of the tradition that the clan had been using for centuries. 

There was little else he had to do but make sure the fire stayed burning. Hanzo taught him everything he needed: to sweep away the ash, to keep the humidity up, to rotate the egg several times a day (always an odd number, never even), and how to maintain and stoke the fire with the box bellows – a rectangular container with a piston inside, that had to be cranked by hand. 

He returned to the incubator every few hours to check on the egg – even waking up during the dark hours of the night, sleep deprived and struggling to overcome the desire to leave the egg to suffer, and returning to bed with ash speckling his clothes and his fingers stained black. 

Genji soon decided he didn’t much like the tradition. 

He took the liberty to sneak a digital thermometer into the tinder, one connected to his phone so that he could check on it at any moment. He bought a humidifier with a hygrometer as well, and later jury rigged the bellows to stoke the fire automatically when the temperature dipped too low, freeing himself of the burden. 

He still returned every day, to sweep the ash and make sure everything was working fine, but it was a relief to be able to sleep soundly through the night. 

It worked fine for a few weeks, until Hanzo found out and threatened to tell their father. 

Genji was sure it Umi who had ratted him out. It would not have been the first time. She had an uncanny ability to sniff out when something was off, and she was always scrutinizing Genji from atop her perch on Hanzo's shoulder, like a hyena ready to tear him apart and chew his bones. 

So as Hanzo matched towards their father’s room, Genji latched onto his leg and pleaded with his brother not to say anything, using every excuse in the book – about honor and brotherhood and not being a snitch. Hanzo simply dragged him across the floor, rebuking him for throwing away their traditions like garbage. 

Yet, in the end, Hanzo relented. He stayed silent. 

Hanzo said it was because he didn't want to hear Genji whine about it forever; his dragons both agreed it was because he was too soft on his brother. 

In reality, Hanzo didn't want to be a hypocrite. He had also used a thermometer when he was raising his own dragon egg. 

But ultimately, it didn’t matter. 

On one of the rare days when he was actually home and not busy running a mafia, Sojiro accompanied Genji to the incubator to see how the egg was fairing. 

Hanzo was there too, trying to ignore his blabbering young brother, who was talking up a storm about anything and everything. It was a horribly common thing for Genji to do, but Hanzo knew that in this moment, it was to distract their father from snooping about the room. 

Fortunately, Genji covered his tracks well; with the devices tucked away in one of the storage containers, nothing looked out of the ordinary. Both brothers were certain he'd get away with it without incident. 

But Sojiro was sharp, and no stranger to Genji’s antics. All it took was a few words between their father and the guards: it was inevitable that the very people hired to keep an eye on things would notice Genji showing up to the incubator only once a day, when it should have been several. They were a family of secrecy, but not so much amongst each other. 

And Genji looked like he was seconds away from tears when his father confronted him about it. There was no lying his way out of this one. Hanzo thought he was going to resort to another tantrum. 

Instead, Genji did what his brother would have never believed of him: he told the truth.

Hanzo could not read the stolid expression on his father’s face as Genji showed him the thermometer, the humidifier, and explained how he built the rigged bellows. But he still fully expected Genji to be reprimanded for his actions, just as he had been when he had been careless and caught red-handed because of it. 

He was nonplussed when his father actually praised Genji for his “resourcefulness,” as Sojiro put it. Nothing about ruining traditions or neglecting responsibilities – none of the anger that he had thrown at Hanzo. 

It was a calculated move to get on his father's good side, they both knew it, and it had worked. Being the baby of the family had its benefits, and Genji took full advantage of that. 

Thinking back on it, Hanzo would realize that moment was the start of the fissure that erupted between Genji and himself. 

* * *

The winter snow was beginning to melt when the first crack appeared on the egg. 

It looked like little more than a blemish when Genji noticed it early in the morning, and when he paused to observe it, he could hear gentle squeaking from inside the egg, like crooning baby crocodiles. 

He sprinted to Hanzo's room and pounced on his brother while he was still sleeping, screaming "the egg is hatching!" 

Hanzo immediately shoved him off, then started cursing when Genji grabbed his leg and tried to pull him out of bed, still yelling at him. He only let go when Hanzo kicked him in the ribs. 

Genji pulled the covers off the bed, undeterred. "Get up, you have to see!” 

“Fine, I’m up,” Hanzo croaked and sat up and rubbed his face, trying to wake himself up. “I’ll be there soon, just leave me alone.” 

Genji conceded and ran back to the incubator; Hanzo arrived soon after, with Kawa and Umi as usual. 

Together, they dawned fireproof gloves (too big for either of them) and scooped the egg up from its charcoal nest to deposit it in a metal box lined with a thermal blanket. They took the egg upstairs, set it on a low table in Genji's room, and sat before it. 

Then, it was only a matter of waiting. 

To pass the time, they talked. Genji asked a million questions about dragons, and Hanzo relayed the legends of the powerful mythical beasts of the past, tales which their father had once told him when he was younger. Had Sojiro not been away on official business, it would have been him telling these stories. 

Genji was engrossed in it, and it was a relief from the boredom he’d otherwise be suffering. He always had a love for fantastical tales, a feeling that would never leave him. 

But eventually, after a few lengthy hours conversing, it grew tiresome. 

So they listened to the chirping of the egg and watched as it jittered periodically, as the dragons (not one dragon, but two – dragons born in the Shimada clan were always twins, Hanzo said) tried to poke their way out. 

It was an incredibly slow process, and not the most interesting thing to watch. With nothing to occupy him, Genji quickly grew bored and impatient. Intent on speeding things along, he reached out to the egg – only to have his hand slapped away by Hanzo. 

“Don’t,” he hissed. 

Genji frowned. “This is boring! I want to help.” 

“They need time. If you interfere, they could get hurt. They could die,” Hanzo emphasized. “Be patient.” 

Genji crossed his arms and sunk into a pout, but he didn’t argue. For the sake of the dragons, he would be patient, he told himself. As a distraction, he thought of dragons and all the good things that went along with them. 

The sky grew dark. While lost in his thought, Genji unintentionally fell asleep on the floor with his head in his hands. He awoke with a jolt when Hanzo shook his shoulder, and his eyes instantly locked onto the egg. 

The dragons had zipped a line around the egg, dividing it into two unequal sides. Slowly, they shoved the top of the egg off and wiggled their way out. 

Genji couldn’t help the smile that spread on his face. 

For such a large egg, the dragons were smaller than he had expected. Coiled together, they took up the entirety of the shell, but individually, they were quite tiny and thin. Their closed, unseeing eyes seemed too big for their heads, like the bulging eyes of baby birds. Likewise, their ears were comically large and would need growing into. They had four legs with sharp claws on the end of each three-toed paw. But they had no horns, hair, or spikes – just smooth, soft scales. When they opened their mouths to chirp, he saw no teeth in their pink gums. 

Genji would have thought them to be very ugly, were it not for their spectacular neon green color. They looked like they were made of bright jade stone, shining with an iridescence like an opal. He was smitten. 

With Hanzo's go-ahead, Genji dried the two hatchlings with a towel, to wipe off the slimy amniotic fluid still covering them, then scooped them into his arms with great care. The two hatchlings wriggled as they tried to get comfortable, coiled together like tangled string. He could feel the beat of their small hearts, and the warm puffs of breath on his skin. 

He was bubbling with the kind of happiness that him grin so much that his face hurt. 

He let out a yelp when he felt claws dig into his arm – Umi had jumped onto him for a closer look. She sniffed the young dragons for a moment, then turned to glace at Genji, as if satisfied. She wasn’t much bigger than them, despite being years older. 

“What should I name them?” Genji asked. 

“That is your choice,” Hanzo said. "You can decide whenever you feel ready." 

“How am I supposed to raise them?” 

“I will teach you what you need to know, but some things you’ll just have to figure out for yourself.” 

“But what if I’m not a good dad?” 

Hanzo snorted a laugh. “They’re not your children.” 

Umi leapt off Genji’s arm and onto the floor. Hanzo reached out a hand, which she scuttled back up, and took her place on his shoulder once again. 

“What you must understand,” Hanzo continued, “is that you are not their parent, nor are they your pets. You are their mentor and guide, and they will be your loyal guardians in return.” 

Genji looked at the hatchlings sleeping in his arms. 

He thought he’d make a good dragon dad. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm an American who has never been to Japan and learned almost everything about it through internet research. I tried to be as accurate and true as possible to Japanese culture, but if I got anything wrong, I apologize, and please let me know! (Some liberties were taken, like I know most Japanese homes don't have basements, for instance.)
> 
> Any critiques or comments would be greatly appreciated! Be honest - if you think I suck at writing, tell me. I want to improve.
> 
> Also, first official fic I ever wrote. Woo! Art is mine, and chat with me on Tumblr if you want: sketchmatters.tumblr.com


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A NEW CHAPTER, IT'S A MIRACLE.  
> This has been sitting on my computer for a while... I wish I had worked on/finished this fic before I got bored with it.  
> Some bits are a bit rushed, but I want to move on from this. Currently this one is unbeta'd, will edit it later.

He could have read a thousand books and written down every bit of knowledge his family threw at him – it still would have never prepared Genji for how arduous it was raising two young dragons.

It started easy: for the first week, the hatchlings simply laid in their nest and crooned. He couldn't shirk his duties this time, but he had little else to do beyond feeding and cleaning up after them.

He still resented getting up several times in the night – long ago he had resorted to keeping his phone, with its blaring alarms, on his desk, far away from him, to force himself to get up – but it was a level up from having to trek all the way downstairs now that they stayed in his room, and less work too.

He fed them by hand with a feeding syringe filled with something called “dragon's milk,” which looked no different from raw cow milk, but had a pungent smell that had Genji holding his breath or covering his nose with his shirt. (The “milk” was like the crop milk of pigeons, penguins, and flamingoes, kindly provided by his father’s dragons, Momo and Risshuu, who had to regurgitate it for him like a bird feeding its chicks – undoubtedly the grossest part of the day. He hated it.)

One at a time, he would cradle the hatchlings in an arm as they blindly lapped at the syringe and milk dribbled down their chins, stickying their snouts and his hands. He couldn't deny that being able to feel their warm breath and watch them lick at his fingers was much more fulfilling than taking care of an inanimate egg that was no more enthralling than a rock.

Within a week, the hatchlings opened their eyes. Genji was captivated by their honey-yellow irises, which seemed to shift colors in different lighting, from orange to red to green. They seemed to drink up everything in their sight, absorbing every detail of their surroundings. Their unblinking stares, on the other hand, unnerved him, yet he often found himself in staring contests with them, ones he almost always lost.

At two weeks, their needle-sharp baby teeth began to poke through their pink gums, something Genji learned the hard way while feeding them one day. Teaching them not to bite was a challenge when they didn’t seem to give a damn about sinking their teeth into his hands with enough force to make him bleed; he had the numerous, tiny scars to show for it. Keeping their food away until they calmed down was the only thing that worked.

He soon switched their foods from liquid to solid. Their new meals consisted mostly of raw chicken, bones and all, which he cut into manageable pieces with a knife and fed them by hand, as always.

They ate a lot. Between the two of them, they were able to scarf down at least a whole chicken each day, often more. The bones they gnawed on in-between meals, good for Genji because it meant they weren’t chewing up his clothes or whatever was within their reach.

The real trouble began when they started worming their way out of the nest.

Genji kept a close eye on them as best he could. He carried the nest with him wherever he went, and dutifully put them back when they snuck out. But they were antsy, with a curiosity that would never be sated, and wanted to explore.

 Which led to the day when, sitting at his desk and distracted by his schoolwork, he looked up to see the nest empty.

It was inevitable, he knew it, but that didn’t stop the feeling of his heart collapsing on itself and his breath catching in his throat. If he wasn’t going to die of a heart attack in this moment, his father was definitely going to kill him, he was sure of it.

Immediately, he was pulling up the dirty clothes littering the floor of his unkempt room (a habit his father did not appreciate in the slightest), the closest thing to the nest.

He was lucky this time, for within seconds he found them curled up in one of his shirts, one gnawing on old poultry bones and the other chewing holes in the fabric.

His room stayed immaculately clean after that.

_You'll learn_ , his father said when Genji told him about the incident. It was a phrase he started to resent the more he heard it over the years. _You'll make mistakes, but you'll learn from them_.

Genji knew he wasn't talking only about raising the dragons.

Hanzo just rubbed it in his brother’s face when he found out. He knew it would happen, had told Genji he needs to pick up his room because the dragons would get into things they shouldn’t, but of course he didn’t. Listening to his brother nag him only made Genji want to knock a few of his teeth out.

___

A month passed before the dragons were finally crawling around the house.

Fortunately for Genji, the home had been dragon-proofed a long time ago. He was certainly not the first to have unruly dragons, after all.

The vents and containers were covered and locked in place, vases and lanterns capped with sealed lids, doors always kept shut, and furnishing were kept to a minimum (the last a product of their culture, but one that helped in many ways).

Yet, they still found ways to get themselves in trouble.

It seemed that any time Genji took his eyes off them, they wandered off and lost themselves in the weirdest places – inside paper lamps, behind statues, in the corner of closets, his family’s kimonos, atop ledges higher than Genji could peer over.

Every time, Genji tossed the house upside trying to find them, even enlisting the help of their security guards, who usually ended up cleaning the mess he left behind than actually helping.

His search-and-rescue efforts cut into his homeschooling and ninja training, and they almost suffered for it; taking care of the dragons was a part of his daily schedule, looking for them when they were lost was not. The thing that saved him was Kawa and Umi, who were always able to sniff out the hatchlings out. (Good luck to him when Hanzo wasn’t around.) The rest of his family weren’t so lenient about it, and too busy to help half the time anyways.

Worst yet was when they started destroying things.

Genji had put plastic caps over their claws (in different colors, because he thought it was funny) long before they started to claw things, but they quickly figured out that they could chew them off.

They began ripping up the expensive straw mats, clothes, walls - whatever they could get their claws on. He had no choice but to clip their nails blunt, a task none of them enjoyed, but especially Genji, who always ended up scratched and bitten afterwards.

At some point, one of them – the “nice dragon,” Genji called him, still trying to think of names – started hoarding things.

In a strict household like theirs, where everything has its place, they noticed quickly. If it was small and could be picked up, it disappeared. From fountain pens to shurikens to chopsticks, nothing slipped out of the dragon’s grasp. He was clever enough to only steal when no one was looking, and though Genji searched high and low, he couldn’t find where the hatchling was hiding everything.

He had the idea of leaving his phone out and alone during the night, as bait. When it disappeared the next morning, Genji and his brother spent the day calling it using Hanzo's phone, listening for the ringtone as they searched the house while the hatchlings trailed behind.

It was one of the guards who alerted them that it was not, in fact, in their home. They were brought out to the building housing the _bonshō_ , that very old bell they kept for decoration more than anything, nowadays.

They could hear the sound of Genji's phone going off up above them, in the rafters. Hanzo scaled the bell as quietly as he could and heaved himself there.

Sure enough, the hatchling had been hiding his pile of treasure atop the wooden beams: wooden sticks, lucky amulets, small bells, jewelry, utensils, writing implements, crumbled stationary, shiny gemstones, expensive porcelain dishware, and of course, Genji's phone. 

How he got these things up there without notice was anyone's guess. The dragon was a true ninja, their father said.

The other hatchling was a bigger problem.

She would stare Genji down as she knocked cups and bowls off the tables. (Luckily, because of their high quality and the fact that the tables were too low to the ground to begin with, the dishes never broke, but their contents always ruined whatever they hit if it wasn’t water.)

And while Genji was distracted with cleaning up the mess, or something or other, she would push the dish to the edge of the nearest staircase and send it crashing down the steps and into a million pieces. She earned her title as the “mean dragon” for good reason.

Genji tried to work with them, truly. He bribed them with expensive treats, and coaxed them with toys. It worked for the nice one, at times. But the mean one was undeterred, and decided that she’d rather do what she wants than listen to him.

Inseparable as they were, when the mean one did something bad, the other would follow suite, and Genji could never get them under control because of it.

___

The day his dragons said their first word was not a particularly fine day for Genji.

He woke up to find the shirts of his ninja uniform - _all_ of them - shredded by one of the hatchlings, who was sleeping on her newly constructed nest of torn fabric.

When he showed up early to training wearing one of his newer t-shirts, captioned with some phrase in English that he couldn't yet read, Hanzo looked like he was going to have a stroke.

"Get rid of that shirt _now_!"

Hanzo tried to shove Genji back inside as Genji struggled to hold his ground and push him back. "My dragon destroyed all of my shirts, I didn't have anything else!"

"Then borrow one of mine!" The hatchlings, still on Genji's shoulder, started nipping at any part of Hanzo they could reach, making him flinch.

"They don't fit me!"

"You can't let Satomi see it, it's vulgar!"

"Enough!" Hanzo was just about to pull the shirt right off him when a voice made both of them jump.

Genji moved to stand next to his brother and they quickly bowed low, simultaneously shouting "I'm sorry!" Satomi had just walked outside, and the look she gave them could have struck fear in a dragon.

"Genji, where is your uniform?" It was less of a question and more of a statement.

Genji hesitated. "My dragons destroyed all of my ninja shirts," he repeated.

Satomi scoffed. "Teach your dragons respect." (Something else Genji heard repeatedly over the years as the dragons grew up.)

"Forty laps around the perimeter, both of you."

Genji internally whined and debated running away instead.

They stood up, and when Satomi caught sight of the shirt, her eyes went wide and she coughed into her fist to hide her surprise.

"Change your shirt first, Genji. Something without words." Her voice was quivering and Genji was certain she was trying _really hard_ to hold in a laugh. “You get to run an extra twenty laps afterwards."

"I told you," Hanzo whispered to him, and Genji stuck his tongue out at him instead of kicking him on the shin like he really wanted to.

That afternoon was no better. Genji sat at his desk, listening to the teacher ramble about English and struggling to keep up. He had been studying the language for less than a year, and progression was exasperatingly slow – mostly because Genji hated it and didn’t put in the effort, not that he couldn’t do it. All the strange pronunciations, spelling exceptions, pluralized words made him want to take all his textbooks and toss them in a dumpster.

The teacher repeatedly told him to stop the incessant tapping of his pen on the desk, and he tried, but the noise would start anew with each new and frustrating word that crossed his path. (Hanzo was well past Genji in English – along with several other languages – so they didn’t share this class, but Genji could still imagine the hostile glares his brother would throw his way had they been in same room.)

When his break finally rolled around, he ran straight to the arcade bordering his home, and plopped himself in front of the first empty machine he found. He fully intended to drown his problems with mindless games, but his dragons, curled up in the big, orange scarf he wore around his neck, grumbled and nipped his ears before Genji had even hit any buttons.

Genji turned to look at the hatchlings, and followed their gaze to the two kids battling each other at a lone pong table. They were around the same age as him and undoubtedly American, evident from their bright hair and eyes, and their voices booming over the quieter din of the arcade. Even through their accents, he could manage to follow along with a good deal of the conversation they spoke in English, yelling about who was going to win and crude jokes which flew over his head.

It was a great learning opportunity and Genji was nothing short of energy and audacity; he scampered up to them with a wave and a grin, which grew even more when they returned the smile. Within a minute, they were laughing and chatting about video games, and Genji asked a million questions about where they were from and how they managed to use such a difficult language. A lot of time was spent just trying to explain foreign words and metaphors (and curses) to Genji, but none minded.

He was so wrapped up in the conversation that the 15 minutes he was limited to his break ticked by as time got away from him. He only noticed because the hatchlings began grumbling and nipping at him again, which prompted him to check the time and nearly flip out when he saw that an entire hour had passed.

He blurted out a goodbye to the two kids sprinted straight home, hoping that maybe, just this once, they’d let him off the hook. Not that he expected them to.

Of course, the first person he ran into would be Satomi. There was no amusement in her voice this time and the glower on her face was clear.

“You were not given permission to shirk your studies and waste time playing video games.”

Genji would have normally bowed and apologized, but he felt anger seep in at the accusation.

"I wasn't playing games, I was practicing English with some kids in the neighborhood.” He didn’t dare mention the arcade.

"Lying will not help you."

Genji stamped his foot. "I'm not lying!"

One of the dragons poked her head out of the scarf, her tail flicking like an agitated cat. “Not lying!” she mimicked, shortly followed by the other who said the same.

Genji had no time to react to hearing his dragon’s first words before Satomi spoke. “I’ll make sure your father knows you’ve been neglecting your responsibilities, being dishonest about it, and teaching your dragons to lie too,” she said, then walked away without waiting for Genji to reply.

Genji wanted to scream at her. He buried his face in his hands and flopped backwards onto the grass, and grumbling curses at everything using all the new words he learned that day.

One of the dragons nuzzled his hands, pushing them away so she could look him in the eyes.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

Genji smiled, his anger momentarily forgotten, and scratched behind her ears. “It’s not your fault. But thank you.”

___

During the summer, on a lazy morning with nothing to do, Genji found his dragons sitting on a windowsill, gazing at the birds sitting in the trees.

"Do you want to go outside?" As soon as Genji asked, their ears perked up and they simultaneously shouted " _HAI_ " at him. It was a nice day to be out, but it could have been flooding outside and they still would have said yes.

The dragons bounded into Genji’s arms, and he carried them outdoors. The first time he took them outside, he was terrified they would run away, but they were always content to sniff the air, play around, bask in the warm sun (or soak in the rain), and, just occasionally, get into fights with the birds or each other.

As they always did, they eventually grew tired of doing nothing and wiggled out of Genji's hold. Before he could catch them, one scrambled up the closest tree and planted herself on a branch just out of his reach. The other just rolled around in the grass and pawed at the fallen leaves while making squeaky noises of delight.

"Get down from there, or I'll come up there to catch you," Genji stretched to reach her, hoping she would jump down. She stuck her tongue out at him instead. He returned the gesture.

Out the corner of his eye, Genji spotted Hanzo, dragons perched on his shoulders, strolling down his way.

" _Anija_!" Genji yelled. "She won't come down from the tree!"

"You're a ninja, climb the tree yourself," Hanzo said as he approached, Kawa and Umi watching the hatchling make a fool of himself in the grass and dirt.

Genji huffed and started making weird faces at his dragon, who reciprocated. "She should just listen to me."

"Neither of them listen to anything," Hanzo said, without amusement. "Have you decided what to name them yet? This should not be taking so long."

Genji looked down at the hatchling on the ground, who stopped batting the leaves and stared back at him with wide eyes.

"Maru," he said. "He reminds me of the cat."

"You're going to name your dragon after an old cat from the internet?"

"He's my dragon, I can name him whatever I want. And he likes the name." Genji crouched down to get the dragon's attention, yelling "RIGHT MARU?"

" _HAI_ ," Maru yelled back.

                Part of Hanzo wanted to reprimand him on how disrespectful it was to give a dragon – not a pet, but a guardian and ally – such a crude name. The other part of him, having watched the hatchling find its way into every box they brought into the house, thought it was very fitting.

"What about the other one?"

Genji stood back up. "I thought about naming her Hanzo since you're both jerks."

"Shut up." Hanzo smacked Genji on the back of the head, enough to make him yelp but not enough to hurt.

“You just proved my point!” Genji stomped his foot on the ground, but looking at the genuine smile on Hanzo’s face, he couldn’t help smiling back.

The hatchling in the tree eyed the two siblings, yawned and stretched out like an extra-long cat, while digging her claws deep in the branches of the tree – one of their rare, prized sakura trees – at which Hanzo yelled at her to stop and rushed up the trunk. She jumped down into Genji’s arms before the older brother could catch her.

“She did that on purpose,” Hanzo huffed and jumped down, glaring at the two of them as Genji tried to hold in his laughter. He could feel the hatchling rumbling like she did whenever she found something funny, her own version of a laugh.

Genji scratched her behind the ears. “I really don’t know what to name her,” he said once his amusement had died down. “She doesn’t like anything I picked, she just ignores it.”

“Keep trying. She’ll have to agree to one eventually.”

___

The two brothers found themselves sitting in the dining room for dinner that evening. While it was common for their father to be gone for long stretches of time, they typically ate their meals with whatever family was around at the time, normally the elders of the clan. This was one of those rare moments when everyone else was too busy, and it was just the two of them.

That meant Genji’s dragons could lay on the table without getting in trouble, as they were at that moment.

Hanzo obviously didn't approve, and he would kick them off every time – until his own dragons started doing it too. Genji's dragons were a terrible, horrible influence on them, Hanzo would grumble.

All four dragons were laying atop the table, chewing on the bones leftover from their meal earlier. The dragons ate a variety of raw meats, ranging from chicken, waguy beef, pork, mutton, and fish, depending on the day, and they were always fed first, to deter them from asking (or taking) table scraps.

Giving them food from the table was forbidden, and Genji, who liked to keep his food for himself, had no trouble with this rule; the same could not be said of his dragons.

A server brought out two large bowls and set them before the two brothers. They were filled with _soba_ – with buckwheat noodles made from scratch, fresh vegetables and herbs, rich broth sweetened with honey, and topped with narutomaki; a favorite of both.

The curiosity of the “mean one” was piqued by the pleasant smell wafting her way. She crawled up to Genji’s bowl and took deep sniffs, before Genji batted her nose away. “No! That’s mind.”

She grumbled and scooted a few feet away.

Hanzo and Genji clasped their hands together in prayer and exclaimed “Itadakimasu!” like they always did before a meal.

“What is that?” the dragon asked. Genji had been teaching her to speak Japanese, and both dragons were always asking questions about the names of all the objects they laid eyes on.

“Soba,” Genji said, picking up his chopsticks. “You can’t have any.”

“I want to try it.” The few times she had tasted anything that wasn’t meat was the few times she dared to steal it from somewhere or someone; she developed a taste for human food and wanted to try all the interesting things they ate.

Genji was about to reprimand her again, but she didn’t wait before she slithered head-first into the bowl of noodles.

Her tail hung out of the bowl, too bit to fit her entirely. She poked her head out from beneath the soup, noodles draped over her eyes. She lapped at the broth like a cat and chewing up the noodles as she stared Genji dead in the eye.

“I like soba,” she said.

Genji looked like he’d been slapped upside the head by her audacity. “Get out of there, that’s mine!” He grabbed her up by the scruff of her neck, to which she retaliated by splashing hot broth and noodles down his shirt, making him yelp.

“Let her have it, Genji,” Hanzo said, already started on his dinner and clearly annoyed at the interruptions. “You’re going to make a huge mess fighting over it. And I know you’ll eat it anyways if she doesn’t, which is disgusting. Go ask for a new bowl.” He, unlike his younger brother, did care about not wasting things, which was the only reason he was willing to indulge the dragon, just this once.

“If you like soba that much, then maybe that’s what I should name you,” Genji huffed. He used his napkin to clean up the mess.

“I like that name,” the dragon said. Genji stuck his tongue at her again, and she did the same.

“I’m sure dad will be thrilled to learn you named your dragon after a cat and a bowl of soup,” Hanzo deadpanned.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm an American who has never been to Japan and learned almost everything about it through internet research. I tried to be as accurate and true as possible to Japanese culture, but if I got anything wrong, I apologize, and please let me know! (Some liberties were taken, like I know most Japanese homes don't have basements, for instance.)
> 
> Any critiques or comments would be greatly appreciated! Be honest - if you think I suck at writing, tell me. I want to improve.
> 
> Also, first official fic I ever wrote. Woo! Art is mine, and chat with me on Tumblr if you want: sketchmatters.tumblr.com


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